


Location, Location, Location

by Lanning



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-12
Updated: 2001-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanning/pseuds/Lanning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan doublebooks the studio anchor desk; hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Location, Location, Location

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to _Being an Anchor_.

"Here."

"Yeah."

"You brought your dates _here_?"

"Well, yeah. What could be more romantic than the soft glow of test patterns at two in the morning?" Dan gave Casey a roguish smile and his chair a playful twirl.

Casey hopped up to sit on the anchor desk, swinging his sneakered feet and congratulating himself on maintaining an appropriately sardonic expression. Adoring gazes were not cool. "I begin to understand why you remained single so long, my man."

Dan's smile deepened as he moved close to stand between Casey's legs. "Location is everything. Check it out--it's dark, it's quiet. It has many convenient surfaces."

"It's a TV studio, Danny. It's a TV studio on stand-down. TV studios are not romantic."

"Depends on the angle of your view." Dan leaned forward, his smiling mouth hovering tantalizingly two inches from Casey's, his hands resting on Casey's knees.

Oh, God, that sweet face. Casey hastily averted his gaze and pressed on valiantly. "This is, in fact, an unromantic TV studio twenty feet down the hall from yet another unromantic TV studio, where our own unromantic but scaldingly sexy Sally Sasser--"

"Dude," growled Dan, sliding his hands up Casey's thighs. "Lose the alluring alliterative allusions."

Casey ignored the interruption, wallowing happily in the edgy possessiveness in Dan's voice. "--is even now pretending to produce a national broadcast. You do realize that someone could walk in here any minute."

"I do indeed." Dan slipped his hands inside the waistband of Casey's jeans. "And this fact figures prominently in my plan." A flash of comical dismay crossed Dan's face; he cleared his throat. "And by _plan_ I mean, um, like, course of action, scheduled activity, i.e. one's plans for the evening, and not at all in the manipulative or diabolical sense, okay?"

Casey couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Danny, Danny, Danny. Have we fallen off the wagon so soon?"

Dan let loose a melodramatic sigh that made the hair around Casey's face dance. "So I'm experiencing a slight relapse," he said softly, giving the waistband in his warm fingers a tug. "Sue me."

"If I tell Alex you're back in the diabolical plan business--"

"I knew sharing a shrink with you would come back to haunt me."

"--he will kick your sorry obsessive-compulsive ass into orbit, my man."

"But you won't tell him."

"Oh? And why's that, Houdini?"

Dan's eyes went very bright, and Casey caught his breath. "Because I'll make it worth your while not to," whispered Dan. He closed his eyes and kissed Casey gently, every pretense of the game completely disappearing.

Casey sagged against him helplessly, closing his eyes in resignation as his last shred of cool did a buck and wing and exited stage left. He returned the kiss, heart pounding and shaking all over. Nobody had ever kissed him like Danny. "Like I said," muttered Casey, struggling for control of his vocal chords as Dan lovingly released his mouth, "what Alex doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Good choice," breathed Dan huskily, unbuttoning the waistband of Casey's jeans. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, you know."

"This?"

"This." Dan brushed his mouth against Casey's. "You. Me. Here."

Casey went hot and swallowed hard. "Here?"

"Right here."

Oh, God. "Here."

"Here, as in where we are, my man."

"Where anyone could walk in on us."

"Exactly."

"This plan kind of knocks slow and easy out of the ballpark, doesn't it?"

"The plan isn't about slow and easy. The plan is about fast and hard." Dan's fingers were shaking as he slid Casey's zipper down.

Casey realized he was breathing like he'd run ten miles and reined himself in, clearing his throat. "Ah ... how long have you been thinking about this, Danny?"

"Since the first time I saw you sit down at this desk."

"That's a long time." Casey obediently tilted his chin up as Dan plied his throat with slow, wet kisses, unable to stop himself.

"You have no idea," said Dan thickly, his hand sliding inside Casey's pants.

Casey drew a sharp breath as Dan's gentle fingers caressed him through his boxers. "Don't I?"

"Do you?"

"I do."

"You don't. You have no clue how hot you are when you're on." Dan's voice shook; his hand became more demanding.

"You have no idea how hot you _make_ me when I'm on," growled Casey, unable for the life of him to resist a thrust into Dan's hand. "What's the plan, evil genius?"

Dan drew back enough to regard him speculatively, and with just enough of a feral glint in his eyes to make Casey's mouth go dry. "The plan," he said softly, "Is that you bend me over this conveniently placed, sturdily constructed, beautifully finished desk and fuck me through it."

Casey went painfully hard in Dan's relentless hand. "Oh, Jesus," he said faintly.

"Right through it."

"God."

"To the floor."

"God, Danny, stop it."

"_Through _the floor."

"Shit!"

"Do you happen to know how high the ceilings are downstairs?"

"Damn it, Danny, I'm going to fucking _come _if you don't stop it."

"Oh, no, you don't. You've got work to do before you get any of that, my man. Serious, manly work." Grinning broadly, Dan gave Casey a playful shove onto his back across the desk and leaned over him, pushing Casey's t-shirt up to bare his chest.

Casey gasped in surprise. "Ah ... Danny. I hope you won't think any less of my ... oh, God--" Casey broke off as Dan's mouth settled on his right nipple, his skillful tongue teasing it gently. "--ah, my ... my seriousness or manliness here, but--"

"Never." Dan lifted that devastating mouth just enough to speak. "You are a prince among serious and manly guys." He instantly lowered his mouth again, trailing warm, wet kisses down Casey's chest, yanking Casey's jeans and boxers down over his hips as he continued on down Casey's abdomen.

"Oh. Uh ... yeah. Thanks. That's ... that's nice," stammered Casey incoherently, beginning to grasp the notion that he'd lost control about the same time he'd lost cool. "But I ... I think maybe ... Danny. We can't ... uh, do this here."

"Watch me," murmured Dan, and promptly took the entire length of Casey's cock into his mouth in one exquisitely fell swoop.

Casey congratulated himself for not screaming. Gritting his teeth, he slammed both his fists against the desk as Dan's incredible tongue danced over his sensitive skin. Taking a quick breath, he rasped out, "Danny. Please."

Dan instantly stopped and leaned into Casey's field of vision, anxiety in his face. "Case?"

"Don't get me wrong, I--" A loud bang silenced him, and he stared up at Dan in sudden panic as he recognized the sound. The door. The exterior door to the studio. Dan turned his head toward the sound with a horrified expression, then swung back to Casey, brown eyes wide.

"See? I told you." Sally Sasser's cooing voice echoed off the studio's many convenient surfaces. "Nobody home."

Casey locked eyes with Dan for one ghastly, deer-in-the-headlights moment--and then Dan seized Casey's shoulders, hauled him off the desk, and shoved him under it. Casey landed on his left side with a gasp, and Dan crowded in in front of him, chest to chest, breathing hard. "You _had_ to mention her," he muttered in Casey's ear. "You just _had_ to--"

"Amazing." It registered, somewhere in Casey's panic-fogged consciousness, that the man's voice was vaguely familiar--and more to the point, was coming their way. "I was beginning to think they all lived here."

"I'd like to point out," Casey managed to hiss back, "that _I_ am the one with his dick swinging in the breeze here, Machiavelli." He tried desperately to pull his jeans up, but Dan grabbed his arm.

"Swing it later," he breathed.

Casey realized, with profound irritation, that the man was shaking with suppressed laughter. His retort was cut off by Sally's rapidly approaching coo. "Oh, they leave. People do leave, you know. And other people have to step in."

"Is that so?"

"I know people, you know, I talk to people. People who will do things for you. Dana does _not_ know people."

"I'll do things for you." The leer in the man's voice was unmistakable.

Sally's seductive giggle ricocheted gratingly down Casey's ear canal, and he grimaced. If he never heard that sound again, it would be ten years too soon. God, what a guy will do to forget that he can't have what he really wants. He let his fingers curl around Dan's wrist gently, just to feel the man's skin under his fingertips. Dan met his eyes with a strangely quizzical look.

"You're a bad boy, J.J."

Dan rolled his eyes heavenward with a pained expression, and Casey froze mid-caress. J.J.? _J.J.? _And Sally?

"I'm a very bad boy. But I can be nice."

__

_Christ, you poor, horny, stupid asshole._

"How nice?"

__

_Run, J.J. Run for your life._

"Well, that depends. How nice can you be to me?"

Casey did his level best to remember the last time either Sally or J.J. had been nice and came up empty, which compelled an examination of the delightful possibility that both of them were going to be disappointed as hell.

"I can be very, very nice to someone who can do something for me."

Casey tried to remember the last time J.J. had done anything for someone and came up empty again. Oh, yeah. This was going to be ugly.

"Start being nice."

Casey flinched at a sudden impact on the desk above their heads, and saw Dan glance upward with a dismayed expression. Well, why was _he_ looking so surprised? He'd said it was the perfect location, right? It was romantic and glowing and all those other dumb-ass manifestations of Danny-dementia. Hell, the entire population of Manhattan probably had sex on Sports Night's anchor desk on a regular basis. The damn thing was probably booked into the next century, but had Evil Genius here bothered to make reservations? Hell, no. Casey grit his teeth and pinched his eyes shut as he listened to the scuffling and pawing over his head. The universe had one fucking twisted sense of humor.

"Don't tear it!"

"I'll get you another one."

__

_And no matter how much you give her, it'll never be enough._

God knew he'd never given enough. Been enough. For anybody.

"What the hell--"

"Just ... just keep--"

"Ow! What do you think--"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Dan was laughing again, his face buried against Casey's neck. Casey poked him in the ribs frantically.

"Oh, baby--"

"J.J., just--"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh fuck!"

A moment of silence punctuated heavy breathing ensued, only to be broken by a shrill voice raised in unholy indignation. "You shit!"

Dan collapsed against Casey, shaking all over with silent laughter.

"You miserable shit!"

"Sorry," came in a hangdog mutter.

"What the hell was that?"

"Sally--"

"_You _are going to do things for me? Get off me!" Sally slid off the upstage side of the desk, her heels narrowly missing hitting Dan in the rear end. Dan went still and silent, his face pressed to Casey's shoulder. Casey closed his eyes again.

"I've been under a lot of pressure lately--"

"I don't want to hear it!" Sally strode toward the door, her heels clicking in staccato rage against the floor. "You're pathetic."

"Sally, wait!" J.J. launched himself off the desk, stumbled over Casey's chair and ran after her. "Come on, don't be like that--" The door clanged shut, cutting off the groveling mid-nauseum, and Casey let go a sigh of relief. He lay in silence for a moment.

Dan lifted his head. "Well," he said a little too brightly, cocking his head to meet Casey's gaze. "That was apocalyptic."

Casey laughed hollowly.

"You don't see a perversion of the laws of nature on that scale every day."

Casey nodded, fighting the cold that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Sort of like the Mother Alien getting it on with the Sta-Puff Marshmallow Man."

"Danny," said Casey harshly.

"Or Godzilla humping Darth Vader."

"Danny, drop it."

Dan dropped his voice instead. "Did she treat you like that?"

"How about we talk about this, like, never?"

Casey started as Dan laid a hand on his cheek and turned his face toward him; Casey could see the grim twist to his mouth now, and his angry eyes. "Did Lisa treat you like that, too?"

Casey felt his jaw drop and his stomach twist. "Lisa? What the hell does this have to do with Lisa?"

"She did, didn't she? They both did."

"Did I miss the part where you took drugs?"

Dan got quiet again, his eyes locked with Casey's, for about three seconds. Then he leaned forward. "I won't treat you like that, Case. I won't ever treat you like that, okay?" And now Dan's voice was dipping and wobbling like the chair in their office, the one with the bad wheel that they kept palming off on each other. "I don't want you to do anything for me."

"Jesus," Casey whispered in appalled understanding. "Danny. You don't--"

"Don't _do_ anything for me." Dan's forehead touched his; his voice broke. "Just be with me."

Casey tried to say something, but nothing came out the first try, or the second. Christ. Like Danny hadn't stood by him, for better or for worse, for the past ten years. Like Danny hadn't gone through hell for him. Like Danny had ever, for one second, showed even the minutest sign of expecting anything but friendship in return. Like 'with my body I thee worship' didn't sing in Casey's head every time Danny touched him.

Casey gave up on talking and took Dan's mouth gently with his own, pressing him to the floor, covering him, cradling his head in his hands. Dan wrapped his arms around Casey tightly, urging him on with that phenomenonally responsive body and talented tongue, but Casey broke the kiss as soon as his brain reestablished contact with his vocabulary. "Dumb-ass," he rasped desperately. "You _couldn't _treat me like that. You don't even know _how _to treat anybody like that."

"Case--"

"What, you think because you and Sally double-booked the desk I can't tell you apart? Are you fucking mental?"

"Don't know what I was thinking," muttered Dan, breathing hard. "It was just a stupid fantasy. Stupid."

"Not," murmured Casey, lowering his head to drop leisurely kisses down the length of Dan's neck to his collarbone, smiling against Dan's skin as Dan went limp beneath him, his eyes drifting shut, pure relief and delight in his face. "It's ... um ... one of my favorites, actually." He felt his face go hot and cleared his throat.

Dan's eyes snapped open. "Your _favorites_?" Now he looked surprised. Hell, he looked amazed.

"Yeah," said Casey huskily. The man had no clue. Jesus, like anybody with half a hormone wouldn't have fantasies about Danny Rydell. "Only you fucked _me _through the desk."

Dan's eyes widened. "Me?" His voice came out in a squeak.

"You."

"Fucked you?"

"Me."

"Here?"

"Here, as in where we are, my man." Casey very deliberately unbuttoned the waistband of Dan's jeans and slid the zipper down.

"Holy shit," said Dan faintly. "Um ... Case ... ."

"What's the matter?" Casey slipped his fingers around Danny's rapidly hardening cock gently. "Not up for serious, manly work?"

Casey froze in surprise as Dan seized his face between two hot hands. "Not up for fast and hard," growled Dan. "We are not doing fast and hard, Casey. Got it?"

"Thought that was the plan." Casey kicked off his sneakers and tugged eagerly on Dan's jeans, pulling them down past his hips.

"That was the plan when _I_ was catching."

Casey shimmied out of his pants and kicked them away, studiously ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking and heart was doing triple-time. "Last minute substitution. Same game plan."

Dan yanked his head down so they were nose to nose, his face drawn in anxiety. "Fuck the plan. My plans suck. You _know _my plans suck. We are under our desk because my plans suck, Casey."

"Not this one." Casey grabbed the bottom of Dan's t-shirt and yanked it up. "This one rocks."

"Case." Dan's voice fell to a murmur; his fingers gentled around Casey's face. Casey went still. "Too soon, partner. Trust me on this one. Please."

"Ten months," whispered Casey.

"You're shaking," whispered Dan.

Casey remained silent and unmoving for a moment.

"Let's knock slow and easy back into the ballpark." Dan let his hands drift down Casey's neck to caress his chest, his dark eyes riveted on Casey's face.

Casey blinked hard and nodded, capitulating. As if he had a chance in hell of saying "no" to that look on Danny's face. The man could have asked for anything at that moment and Casey would have given it to him, a hundred times over. Casey wondered if Danny knew that, if he'd ever known, if he ever really would know, then abandoned all attempt at rational thought as Dan kicked off his shoes and pulled Casey's shirt over his head. Casey eagerly pulled Dan's pants down his legs and off, and Dan rolled onto his side and pulled Casey back against him. Casey felt Dan's erection press against him and pushed back against it encouragingly.

"Dude. Relax." Dan pushed Casey's head down playfully to rest on Dan's forearm. "You're cutting into my serious and manly time in a major way, here." He slid his upper leg between Casey's.

Casey chuckled quietly and lay still, closing his eyes, listening to Dan swear as he rifled the pocket of his inside-out jeans. "Lose something, Houdini?"

"Nope. All set. Chains, blindfolds, handcuffs--"

"Don't even think about it."

"No? Okay, then watch me pull a rabbit out of your a--"

"Shut up!" Casey barely managed to choke back his laughter. The faint scent of the K-Y teased his nose.

"Not a chance," murmured Dan in his ear, all mischief. "Keep provoking me and I'll sing, too."

"God, no. Anything but that." One warm, slick finger slipped inside him, and Casey gasped in pure pleasure. Impossible that this felt good. It couldn't feel good, shouldn't feel good, and had sure as hell never felt good before Danny started doing it. But somehow, despite everything, every time and everyone, Danny had actually _made_ it good. Hell, Danny had made it 'good' the first time. They were so far past 'good' at this point it wasn't even funny. 'Good' was now eating their dust while they roared on by 'spectacular', flipping it the bird. Because Danny did magic. "Danny ... ."

"You have a request?" Dan dropped a soft kiss on Casey's shoulder as he gently massaged Casey, inside, just close enough to his prostate to make him totally crazy.

"Yes," gasped Casey.

"What's it called?"

"_Fuck me._"

"Don't think I know that one," remarked Dan cheerfully.

"_Fuck me now._"

"How does it go?"

"Oh, I'll show you how it goes, smart-ass. When we get home--" Casey uttered something between a groan and a shout as Dan brushed his prostate.

"Yes?" prompted Dan politely. "When we get home?"

"I will fuck you right through that lumpy mattress of yours," gasped Casey, collecting what was left of his mind.

"I've been meaning to mention that you're awfully hard on the furniture, Case."

"And the box-spring."

"See, now, that's exactly what I'm talking about."

"And that collection of comic books under your bed that you think I don't know about."

"Ow, man, ow. Can we say paper cuts?"

"And the floor."

"And splinters?"

"I hope your downstairs neighbor is the enlightened type."

"I doubt it. She doesn't like my singing. Casey."

Dan drew his finger slowly out of Casey, and Casey groaned in protest and anticipation. "What?" he asked breathlessly, feeling Dan's hand slide over his hip to curl around his cock, touching him the way he always did, as if he were something breakable and priceless.

Dan bent his head to nuzzle Casey's ear. "Love you, partner," he said in a shaky little whisper. "More than anything." Dan slipped inside him before Casey could reply.

Fucking was not the right word. At least not when Danny did it. Yeah, they called it that, because it was serious and manly to call it that, and they were two incredibly serious and manly guys. But it wasn't fucking. Danny made love to him. Always had. Even before they'd laid a hand on each other.

"More than anything," breathed Casey, wrapping his free hand around Dan's as it stroked him, his body moving with Dan's as he rocked in and out of Casey gently, tickling that convenient little organ of his so often that speech became a lost art. Casey lay quietly, gasping, lost, and damn sure that 'spectacular' had spun out and was lying wheels-up in a ditch, light-years behind them.

"Casey?"

Dan sounded scared, and Casey's eyes flew open at the sound, wondering exactly how long ago he'd floated to Danny's-Fucking-Me-Land. "I'm good," he rasped quickly. "God oh God I'm so good."

"Are you-"

"Stop and you die."

Dan's weak, relieved laughter covered him like a warm blanket as the rhythm reasserted itself. "Don't want to stop."

"Good."

"You're so damn beautiful."

Casey let out a happy breath as Dan slid home, amazed all over again that he meant it, really meant it, and that Casey believed he meant it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," breathed Dan, still laughing, all determined tenderness. "Want to fuck you all night."

"Good."

"Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't fuck you all night, man." Dan's laughter seemed to overcome him; he bent over Casey, shaking with it as he continued to thrust into him, kissing Casey's neck frantically.

Casey succumbed to some seriously unserious and unmanly giggles, and, horrified, hastily turned his head and yanked Dan down to take the man's laughing mouth with his own. That was all it took. Dan instantly gasped and came inside Casey, crying out softly into Casey's mouth as he kissed him back; Casey came so hard he couldn't see for a second. He felt Dan break the kiss, heard him panting wildly as he rested his head against Casey's and wrapped his free arm around Casey's waist. Casey clutched the encircling arm, struggling to catch his breath and blinking to clear his vision. It took a while.

"Okay?" whispered Dan finally, kissing Casey's ear.

"Okay?" rasped Casey, incredulous.

Dan's voice went strained. "Casey, just--"

"Of course I'm okay! When haven't I been okay with you? When haven't I been so far past okay I can't see straight for the next hour?"

Dan's relieved, warm laughter tickled his ear. "Okay. Just checking."

"Fishing," retorted Casey, caressing Dan's arm tenderly.

"That, too." Dan somehow managed to sound resigned and smug at the same time.

"Fine. You're prime stud, okay? You're a love god." Casey managed, with difficulty, to maintain his acerbic tone. "You take me to the fucking moon." Dan kissed his cheek, chuckling softly, his hand moving lovingly across Casey's semen-soaked abdomen and chest, and Casey closed his eyes, swallowing hard. "You do," he muttered, giving up. "You always have."

"So have you," murmured Dan. "Always."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Fantasies are highly overrated."

"Yeah," agreed Casey softly. "Some of them."

Dan kissed Casey's temple and very gently eased himself out, then picked up Casey's boxers and began to wipe the semen from Casey's chest and stomach. Casey rolled onto his back and looked up at Dan as he cleaned them both up, knowing it was an adoring gaze and not giving a damn, just then, how hopelessly uncool he was, and what a mess Dan was making of his favorite boxers.

"Maybe we're just too hot for fantasies," Dan said rather mournfully. "Maybe the overwhelming sizzle of our stud-factor puts fantasies to shame."

Casey grinned as Dan gently cleaned his hand. "Yeah, that must be it."

"Because this was better than the plan, Casey."

"Yeah, it was."

"I mean, seriously better. Atmospheres better. Solar systems. Galaxies, even."

"Universes."

"Yeah." Dan sighed and tossed the boxers behind him, bending over Casey, running his fingers through his hair. "So what do we do? Give up on fantasies?"

"Hell, no. I am absolutely not giving up on fantasies, Danny." Casey plucked Dan's hand from his hair and kissed the inside of Dan's wrist lightly.

Dan smiled, bending closer. "Why's that, my man? Got a special one?"

Casey kissed Dan's palm. "Possibly."

"How good are we talking here? Is it worth hosing down my hotness?"

Casey cleared his throat, studying Dan's hand carefully, wondering if post-coital euphoria had finally shoved him over the edge. "Well, it's ... uh, not really that kind of fantasy."

"What kind is it?"

"I don't know what kind it is," growled Casey, unnerved. "It just is, okay?"

"Okay," said Dan gently, his fingers curling around Casey's. He wasn't going to let go. "Let's hear it."

Casey suppressed a stab of panic and cleared his throat again. "Okay. Um. So ... let's imagine we're ... uh, a few years down the road here." He felt the heat in his face rise. Shit oh shit this was so stupid. "And Sports Night has had a good long run. And we're getting to be, you know, middle-aged sports anchors--"

"Are we still hot?"

"Even hotter."

"Dude. You're scaring me."

"And maybe we're getting ready to hand off the show to a couple of younger guys."

"Are they as hot as us?"

"No. But they have potential."

"And we have molded and mentored their budding hotness?"

"Exactly."

"We rule."

"And so, maybe we cash in our retirement and buy a little radio station somewhere--"

"What format?"

"Danny--"

"Top 40? Alternative? Starland Vocal Band, 24/7?"

"Soccer 24/7."

"You're a cruel man. Don't think I don't know that."

"And ... and like, maybe we buy a house or something."

Dan hesitated, then bent closer, wonder in his face. "A house?"

Casey swallowed. "Yeah."

"Where?"

Casey coughed unnecessarily. "Where?"

"And the question, once more for our studio audience, was 'where?'"

Casey cleared his throat again. "Well, I was thinking ... I was thinking, like maybe Vermont." Dan didn't say anything for a second. Casey stared over his head, and started counting the brackets between the desk's base and the underside of the desktop.

"Vermont?" Dan's voice was soft, uncertain; his dark eyes searched Casey's face.

"Yeah," croaked Casey. "Do you ... like Vermont?" He started counting brackets again, noting desperately that a couple of them were missing their screws.

"Oh, yeah," breathed Dan finally. He sounded as if he were having trouble getting enough air.

"Yeah?" Casey drew a shaky little breath. "Seriously? You like Vermont?"

"Case." Dan bent so low over him that Casey could see the soft set of his mouth and the brightness in his eyes. "Seriously. I love Vermont. I fucking adore Vermont. I want to spend the rest of my life with Vermont."

"Okay," whispered Casey.

"Okay," whispered Dan, his mouth so close to Casey's that Casey could feel the warmth on his lips.

"Sounds ... sounds like a plan, then." Casey lost his voice.

"Yeah. But not in the manipulative or diabolical sense." Dan was smiling now.

Casey shook his head, blinking hard, and Dan kissed him so deeply and so thoroughly that Casey felt his toes start to curl. Well, hell. Maybe this wasn't such a bad location after all. Casey clutched Dan's body to him hungrily, letting his hands slide down to rest on Dan's ass.

Dan pulled away, breathing hard and grinning like an idiot. "Get your clothes on, my man. We have a date with a lumpy mattress."

Casey yanked him down again, breathless. "Let the mattress get its own action."

Dan chuckled softly. "Dude. Snap out of it."

"I am doing the dark, here, Danny."

"Plenty of that at home."

"And the quiet."

"I give you my solemn word not make a sound while you're boinking me into my X-Men stash."

"And the soft glow."

"I'll plug in my Tinkerbelle nightlight."

Casey paused to consider the proposition, and the unnerving possibility that Dan actually possessed a Tinkerbelle nightlight. "Somehow boinking you in front of Tinkerbelle doesn't do it for me, Houdini."

Dan's grin became wicked. "I always suspected--"

"Don't say it."

"--that you had fairy issues."

"You're scrubbing the desk."

"You walked right into it."

"And if Maintenance asks me about the stains on the carpet, I'm sending them to you."

 


End file.
